


The Baker's Boy

by Lolastar231



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baker Derek, Baker Stiles, Blow Jobs, Feels, Kissing, M/M, foodie porn, magic possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolastar231/pseuds/Lolastar231
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I needed to write something sweet and fluffy (with a few swears) but no real sexytimes because I read some seriously heavy stuff for work recently (stupid depressing reports).  So I resolved to show Derek being glowering and yet sweet and impressively smitten with Stiles.  And of course, there's mention of food and baking which I love utterly. </p>
<p>I'm not sure if there will be more chapters, there might be. </p>
<p>****</p>
<p>“One of yours?” she asked Stiles as she broke a banana and chocolate muffin in half and popped some into her mouth.  Her eyelids fluttered obscenely as she swallowed.  She pointed an accusatory finger at him.  “How?  How do you make everything you bake taste like sex?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Derek reached out a hand to turn the music down to make sure he heard correctly.  Someone was definitely knocking on the back door to the kitchen.  Which was unusual in itself as – he checked the clock on the wall above the fridges – it was too early for any of the day’s deliveries to turn up and he’s the only person here till at least 7am when Laura turns up.  It’s only 4:30am now anyway.   

Which means that whoever it was probably had the wrong door and from the obnoxiously loud way they were knocking he just knew that they would go on for a long time if he didn’t bother answering it.

Suppressing an irritated sigh he wiped his hands on his apron – thank god Laura caved and didn’t order the “Hale Yes! I’d Like A Cupcake”ones – before moving past the fridges, ovens and preparation area, towards the back door and lockers.

At an easy six foot two, Derek was pretty confident that he didn’t need the bat he left at the side of the door but you can never be too sure.  This was Beacon Hills, after all.  He’d heard some weird gossip around town and it made him wary.  And there was never anything wrong with being wary and a bit cautious.

The bat felt good in his hand and bracing himself, he pulled the door open, expecting to see a lost drunk tourist or a too early delivery guy.  But no, what he gets instead is a boy, a guy (a youth? Do people even call kids youths these days? He’s not sure) of around nineteen standing there.  Tousled dark brown hair, skin smooth and a bit pale, good shoulders still being grown into, wide mouth, annoyingly long eyelashes.  Pretty almost, if not for the slightly upturned Peter Pan nose that gave him an impish air.  The physical catalogue Derek ticks off is interrupted by the kid leaning forward, bracing his arms on either side of the open door. 

“Oh hey, dude! I’m Stiles.  Sorry I’m late but my baby decided to not start this morning so I ended up, you know, having to catch a lift with my dad.  Anyway, I’m here, so just put me to work.  I’m ready.  Come at me.”

Derek blinked at the kid. Stiles? How is that even a name? And also why was he here, looking at Derek with stupid eyes so big and guileless that would suit a Disney character? I mean, they were huge, and weirdly amberish and god, the outer rim of his eyes are circled by a darker colour giving the kid at least extra twenty points on the hotness scale.  Who was this kid? Was he even allowed out by himself? He looked ten.  But those shoulders...and forearms and the way he’s drumming long fingers on the wall was distracting and Derek can’t cope with distracting.

 “What are you doing here?” Derek remembers that words can be used in situations like this and that, in fact, he can’t kill people with his mind.  But it’s only a matter of science and time before that happens. 

“Uh, I answered the ad in the newspaper?” The kid, Stiles, smiled and it’s an almost physical blow to Derek’s sanity.  “I interviewed yesterday with Laura?” Stiles straightened and takes a step up so that he doesn’t have to crane his neck up at Derek so much.  The movement brings them very close together. Derek decides he likes the way it changes the dynamic between them and purses his lips in consideration as Stiles continues talking.  “She hired me after I showed her some of my moves.” (He makes some weird karate moves like he’s chopping the air). “And she told me to show up this morning and that you’ll show me around.  You’re Derek, am I right? Man, I had some of your blueberry muffins the other day and oh my god they are like the best thing in the world ever and so I totally...mpphhh.”

Derek watches Stiles’ large eyes grow even bigger in shock as he pressed his hand over Stiles’ mouth to stop him from babbling more.  Anger plucked at him, but not anger at Stiles; anger at Laura and her interfering ways.

“Laura hired you?  Blink once for yes.  Two for no.”  Blink.  “When I take my hand away, you will only answer my next question and do it simply.  No other talking. Clear?” Blink.  “Why did she hire you?”  He moved his hand reluctantly from Stiles’ mouth and he can almost swear the softest of kisses is left behind in the palm of his hand, but no, that would be random and weird.

“Wow, can’t believe you just did that.” Stiles breathed out a puff of air and rubbed his face before blanching.  “Sorry, answering simply.  She hired me to help you out on the morning shift.  To do whatever you need help with.  You know? Mixing, kneading, decorating.  Whatever, man.  I’m a good cook.”

“I don’t need help,” Derek tells him succinctly before jerking a chin at the door.  “Leave.”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed.  “You’re being a complete dick,” he says.  “You don’t even know what I can do for you.”

“You can screw up.  I don’t have time to train you.  We’re busy.  I have my timings down well and I do _not_ need help .” He grimaced.  “I’ve wasted my time talking to you and you’ve already made me late.”

He dropped the bat into the waste paper basket.  “Get going, kid.”

“Hey, jackass? My name is Stiles.  And your brownies are burning.”

___

Stiles retrospectively thought that maybe he should have taken the time to prepare more for his role as Derek’s assistant chef.  But then, baking came naturally to him and he had an easy confidence in his abilities.  He had an entire index card set of recipes he inherited from his mum, that she in turn inherited from her mum and so on, which he’d mastered by the time he was fifteen.  He didn’t mind cooking meals, they were okay and he liked eating good food, but his forte was baking and making desserts.

Derek Hale was the god of pastries, or so his dad insisted on telling him over the past year whilst he was at college.  The chance to work at the Hale Bakery and earn money during his holidays whilst he finished culinary school was too good an opportunity to pass up.   

When he spotted the advert in the local newspaper he knew he had to apply for the job.  He baked a frangipane tart and took it along to his interview.  Laura Hale, an intimidating brunette with very large green eyes, took one bite of the tart, hummed in ecstasy and refused to talk to him until she was done eating her slice.  Then she asked him about other recipes and half an hour later, Stiles walked out with the job, leaving Laura Hale alone in her office making sex noises over his tart.  Stiles couldn’t have felt more accomplished.

And now, Derek _the god of pastries_ Hale, stood glaring daggers at him as Stiles ground coffee beans for a pot of coffee.  The guy was a piece of work – big, muscled, chiselled, handsome as fuck, and one foul tempered mofo – and he seemed to genuinely dislike Stiles.   For no reason at all.  So maybe, yes, Stiles spoke a bit too much but in no way was the situation his fault.

Laura should have told her brother that she was hiring someone to help him.  It made sense she would.  The bakery was busy and they were opening up another shop further down the road which is where they’ll be serving small meals and hopefully branch into music and dinner in the evenings.  It meant big things for the Hales and for Beacon Hills.  It meant they’d need more staff.  They needed Stiles. 

“I can do the cheese twists.”  Stiles nodded to where everything was laid out. “They’re easy to do and I won’t fuck them up.  I’ll also stay out of your way.”

“Yeah.  You do that.”

Derek went back to mixing the dough in the bowl with his hands and Stiles watched distractedly as the muscles in his forearms bunched and worked.   His mouth suddenly felt dry and he turned back to the coffee so that he didn’t actually drool down his shirt.

“You okay if I add some cardamom to this, dude? It gives it a nice taste?”

“Whatever is fine.”

Jeesus, what a sad lack of personality to go with those biceps.  But then if you’re that hot you can be as dull as a plank and people will still want to be all over you. 

Stiles busied himself with making the coffee before moving over to his work station.  The cheese twists were easy enough to make.  He found cayenne pepper in the herbs and spices rack and added a liberal sprinkling, humming to the music coming from the stereo propped up on a shelf.  He checked the oven temp, turned it down a notch, before pouring two mugs of coffee and passing one to Derek.

Like him Derek took it black, apparently, and when Derek took his first sip and didn’t spit it out, Stiles decided that the day was already looking up.  Next he moved on to the chocolate and banana muffins without Derek’s direct say-so but he figured that because he didn’t get shouted at, they were okay.  For now.

They worked in companionable silence, Stiles occasionally belting out lyrics and doing ridiculous dance moves (he just couldn’t help it, okay? Music moved him, even if it moved him ugly) as he mixed cake and kneaded bread dough.   By 7a.m. when Laura turned up  the kitchen smelled like heaven.

She dropped her bag in the office, gave Derek a kiss, blithely ignoring his disgruntled look and pointed glare at Stiles who pretended to be oblivious to the siblings silent eye-brow heavy communication.

“One of yours?” she asked Stiles as she broke a banana and chocolate muffin in half and popped some into her mouth.  Her eyelids fluttered obscenely as she swallowed.  She pointed an accusatory finger at him.  “How?  How do you make everything you bake taste like sex?”

Derek dropped the mixing bowl he was carrying to the sink and shot her a glare which she completely ignored, all her attention focussed on Stiles.  Much to her discomfort and terror.

“I can’t figure out if you’re complimenting me or accusing me of something?”  Stiles eventually stammered, not liking how Derek seemed to be hulking out on the other side of the kitchen.  How could he even do that to his arms? His chest size must have increased by at least five inches just by breathing in.  Jeesus! Stiles felt his knees go weak.  How did the place suddenly feel too small to catch a breath in?

Her fist, when it connects with his pectoral, is hard and bony and Stiles winced, rubbing his chest, dragging his eyes back to Laura, away from Derek’s fine form.

“Compliment, you moron.”  She rolled her eyes.  “I want you and Derek to talk about coming up with a signature dish of some sort for Hale’s Bakery.  I want you to work yourselves to a standstill until you find something that’s going to make people travel for miles to come here.  I want you to make me the next cronut.”

Stiles blinked at her in genuine horror.  “The cronut is a disaster to the culinary art of baking,” he bit out.  “There is so much wrong with it...it’s, it’s like putting a mask on the Venice de Milo or something.  No.” He shook his head.  “I know I’ve only been here for like five minutes but no, I am not going to stand here and have you tell me to make you the next cronut.”

Laura opens her mouth but she’s interrupted by Derek who says, quietly, and yet very forcefully:  “I agree with the kid.”

Stiles and Laura turned to look at him in unison. “What?” It’s like they’re doing a double act.

Derek exhaled (and Stiles watched intently because it was impressive) before continuing.  “We can’t just go out and plan to make something amazing.  Stuff like that doesn’t happen.  It takes time, Laura.”  He frowned at his sister.  “The best inventions are usually...” His hand (it’s big and beautiful Stiles thought) gestured airily.  “...by accident.   Like the cronut.  Even if it is a travesty.”

Laura narrowed her eyes at them both. 

“I don’t like this,” she said.  “I’m going to go open out front because we’ve got old Mrs. Harris waiting outside for her bread, but I’m not happy with this at all.  You guys are going to bake together and you’re going to come up with something amazing.”

With that she spun around and walked off to the front of the shop.  Stiles turned to look at Derek who was watching her with a pensive expression.

“Your sister is certifiable,” he told Derek in a low voice.

“I can hear you!”

“Oh my god!” Stiles pointed.  “She’s got superhearing! Dude, how do you stand it?”

Derek gave him a sideways glance that spoke volumes. 

“Finish up the batch of brownies.  I’ve got these croissants to bake and the seeded loaves to proof before we can get out of here.”

Stiles did not let his jaw drop at that.  No.  Neither did he just watch Derek walk over to his own area and bend down to reach for another bowl and appreciate the way his jeans hugged his ass.  No, he definitely did not just do that.

___

Derek hated to admit that so possibly Stiles’ brownies tasted better than his.  They had a deeper denser flavour than his own and sort of made your mind wander as you ate them.  And he wasn’t entirely sure why Laura said Stiles’ baked goods tasted like sex.  She was so wrong.  They tasted like the _promise_ of sex which is a completely different thing.

“I can’t believe this is your car,” Stiles said as they stepped out of the kitchen as the day-staff took over running the kitchen.  It was just after eleven and the day held a crisp clear promise of autumn.   Derek positively did not watch the sinful way the kid’s hands skimmed the smooth curves of his Camaro and he ignored the stretch of Stiles’ red lips as he grinned at him.  “It is sex on wheels.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Get in the car, Stiles.”

Stiles did as he was told without too much quibble and when the Camaro gunned to life he let out a sigh that sounded definitely too intimate for the interior of the car.  It did weird things to Derek’s chest so when his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he tore out of the parking lot and Stiles hands flattened on the dash, he really didn’t press down on the accelerator on purpose, just to hear Stiles’ breath hitch.

He was going to go to hell for sure.  His impure thoughts needed to be brought under control.  There was no way he could work with Stiles and not stop to watch him as he so wholly threw himself into every single task he did.  Including the stupid dancing.  He’s never seen anyone’s hips, outside of Dirty Dancing (the movie, okay, not the theatre show which he positively did not see), move that way.  Ever.  It was strange and interesting to watch.  Also possibly hot but he couldn’t be a judge on that because he was clearly losing whatever mind he had left.

They tore through town and headed straight to Derek’s house near the edge of the Beacon Hill’s Preserve.   Stiles didn’t really talk that much.  He sent a few text messages before settling down to look out the window.

Derek liked the silence and he liked seeing Stiles in the passenger seat, the way it looked like he belonged there.  He tried not to stare but really, Stiles had the prettiest eyes.  If Derek wrote lyrics he’d write all the words about how pretty they were and possibly not call them pretty.  But _luminous_ and _stirring_ perhaps.   

When they eventually pulled  up to Derek’s house Stiles looked at him in surprise.

“You _live_ here?”

Derek looked at the building and raised his eyebrows questioningly.  “Uh.  Is there something wrong with my home?”

“What? No, jeesus, dude.  It’s just...it’s huge and sort of...on level with...are you like a bazillionaire or something?”

Derek considered the question seriously for a second.  “No, not a bazillionaire.  Come on, I need breakfast that does not consist of croissants and brownies.”

___

The house was huge.  All open plan downstairs and gorgeous wooden floors in the dining room and lounge areas.  The place looked lived in and comfortable with large worn leather couches, coffee tables and knick knacks.  Stiles wandered  around touching things, getting a sense of Derek’s taste and style.   The place was a bit bohemian, a bit New Mexico and it worked with bold colours and patterns.  Not quite to Stiles’ taste, but nice.  For Derek. 

 “I like it,” he said after a few minutes of poking around his dvd collection and rifling through some well read paperbacks in a bookcase.  “Compliments to your decorator.”  

He wandered into the kitchen and watched Derek measure out beans for the coffee machine.

Derek rolled his eyes at him.  “You seriously think I’d employ a decorator when I can go and get all the stuff myself?”

“Uh, I don’t know?” He shrugged.  “I mean, if I had money I’d probably ask someone to sort out where I lived.  Like, I have really bad taste.  In everything.”

“Except for food and baking, apparently.”

“Yeah.” At that he grinned.  “What can I do to help with making breakfast?”

“How about slicing the peppers? I’m doing huervos.”

“On it.”

Stiles took a second to appreciate the bunch and release of Derek’s forearms working the grinder before turning to make sense of the kitchen.

The place was actually bigger than the kitchen at the back of the bakery and even more immaculate.  He found the cutlery drawer but then he found the knives drawer and had to have a little moment of appreciating the selection of styles and general beauty of them.  Chef’s knives were sacred.  You buy them when you can, with what money you have available, and you treasure them.  A good kitchen knife goes a long way to complimenting every other appliance in your kitchen.

Derek seemed passionate about his knives.  He had a lot of them and Stiles recognized a few from the catalogues he kept under his bed in the apartment he shared with his friend, Scott.  Scott came across them once looking for his lacrosse stick and called Stiles out for having a knife fetish and started calling the catalogues Stiles’ porn stash.  Weirdly, Stiles did not have an issue with this at all.

Stiles puttered around the kitchen, humming to the music coming from speakers he couldn’t see, and worked his way around Derek without making it too obvious that he was checking him out.  He’d spent the entire morning hyper-aware of Derek a few metres away from him in the bakery kitchen.  They worked around one another, meshing together with worrying ease, even if he caught Derek watching him intensely with an inscrutable expression a few times. 

Derek set placemats down, arranged the cutlery and poured them each a mug of coffee at the island in the middle of the kitchen.  He served the huervos rancheros on warmed plates and Stiles hummed in appreciation as he dug in.

“Oh god, this is good.  I didn’t realise how hungry I was until you started making it.”  He grinned at Derek.  “So, what else are you good at?”

 

___

Derek let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before carefully wiping his mouth with a napkin and standing up.  A voice, sanity, told him not to do it, that he’d been exposed to Stiles for far too long; that he’d been taken unawares and been distracted by him, by his stupid eyes, the beyond silly lashes, and full red mouth; that he had to think this through because it could go very badly wrong. Maybe try and build up some immunity against Stiles first, if that was even remotely possible, and after a few weeks or months even, just you know, casually kiss him senseless.

But Derek decided the voices and sanity could go fly a kite in a thunderstorm.  He had to do this.  Patience was not one of his virtues and it never has been.  He had to do this now before he brought the walls slamming down because he could feel the fear of having someone getting close wrapping around his chest, caging his heart.  He had to do this, prove to himself that it was a hormone thing, nothing serious, a passing obsession maybe, an infatuation even.  By kissing him, he’d get it out of his system.  He had to just see and feel and taste because Stiles.

Stiles made a soft noise of surprise when Derek walked the two small steps it took to get to him, pulled him off the chair by fisting a large hand in Stiles’ t-shirt and bent his head forward and kissed him.

Derek fully intended the kiss to be chaste.  He wasn’t even sure if Stiles liked him but when his lips met Stiles’ mouth and Stiles made a breathy sound against him and didn’t punch him in the head, made no sign of protest and possibly even swayed closer to him so that their hips aligned properly and curled his arm around Derek’s neck, his fingers winding into his hair, and opened his mouth, Derek counted it as a win.

Kissing Stiles was obviously his kink he decided after some time of exploring the younger man’s mouth with his tongue and lips.  He tasted of the brunch Derek made them, the coffee too, but there was something else, a taste he could easily become addicted to.   And he felt incredible pressed against Derek, like Stiles fit the shape of him.

Unable to think levelly, he lightly dropped his head into the curve of Stiles neck and inhaled him, closing his eyes for a few seconds, just listening to the thrum and hum of his own heartbeat and the answering beat in Stiles’ body.

“I...,” Stiles’ voice was so soft that had he not been leaning into him this way, he would never have heard it.  “I am not sure what just happened.”

“Sorry about that.” Derek looked into Stiles’ eyes with regret.  “I just needed...?”

Stiles nodded, his hand moving seemingly of its own accord to rest lightly against the skin of his neck, his thumb following the curve of his cheekbone.

“Thanks.” Stiles’ eyes have grown darker with want as he looked into Derek’s eyes.  “I needed you to do that before I did something stupid to myself.”

Derek watched his mouth, wondering if he’ll ever tire of kissing him.  “This is not who I am,” he admitted.  “I don’t just kiss people.  I need you to know that.”

“You know what?” Stiles’s voice sounded a bit too casual.  “I totally didn’t think that you did.”

Derek’s mouth twisted into a smile.  “Let’s finish brunch and figure out what we’re going to make to put Hale’s Bakery on the culinary map before Laura decides to fire both our asses.”

\- tbc - maybe?


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny bit more of Derek and Stiles being cute and of Laura freaking out and thinking Stiles is magic.

 

They fell asleep arguing about recipes.  Stiles woke up to find it dark outside and Derek still asleep and sprawled on the opposite couch. The house wasn’t quiet.  Music was coming from somewhere and he liked that Derek had hidden speakers all over the place and that his playlist and choice in music seemed endless and varied.

Stiles tried not to let his gaze linger on the width of Derek’s back, revealed oh so nicely by his long sleeved t-shirt pulled taught across his shoulders, or the way it rucked up just a little to show the smooth muscled expanse of his lower back. He didn’t want to be pervy but damn, the boy was fine.

His phone vibrated on the floor beside the couch and he lifted it to check.  His dad, telling him not to wait up, he was pulling a double shift, and to make sure he got enough sleep.  The time read 18:06.  It felt later than that, mostly because he’d been up since four a.m.

He swung his legs off the couch and stood up, carefully stepping over the cookbooks they’d spread out on the floor between the two couches.  Notes were scattered everywhere, along with empty bags of Doritos and half an eaten packet of Oreos.

They were no closer to figuring out what to try and make.  It made for some interesting arguing and angry kissing.  Stiles wondered what exactly went through Derek’s mind before they kissed for the first time. It happened perfectly and unexpectedly and Stiles initially thought Derek was going to throw him out for some misinterpreted slight him but then, the kiss, and the intensity and the speed the bolt of sheer _want_ hit him in the gut blew his mind.  

There’d been only kissing, which had been so good, god, Derek was officially the king of kissing and making out, and although Stiles desperately ached for more Derek held back, gentling Stiles’  tremors with calming hands skimming down his arms, wrapping Stiles’ hands in his own.

Derek then dropped his hands, walked into his kitchen and came out with around thirty magazines and cookbooks and they’d been pouring over recipes the whole time. Fully clothed. Although there’d been a few instances of severe eye-sex.

Stiles crouched next to Derek, brushing a hand across his forehead and placed a soft kiss on the back of his exposed neck.

“Derek? I have to get going. I need to get home to try and get sleep before having to get up for work tomorrow morning.”

Derek didn’t start awake and yell at him for even being here, thank god.  Instead he murmured something that sounded like ‘not a dream’ before rolling over and twisting his torso and smiled sleepily up at Stiles before pulling him down on top of him.

“Hey.”

Stiles tried not to grin like a completely fool as he tried to arrange his arms and legs in a comfortable position and not crush Derek completely.

“What were you saying about leaving? What time is it?”

“Just after six. I need to go do grocery shopping too. We have nothing at home for dinner.”

Derek watched him thoughtfully.  “Are you sure you want to go?”

“Yes. For my own sanity.”

It felt weird lying on top of Derek.  The guy was a wall of well carved muscle and each time he breathed Stiles watched himself lift a little off his chest.  It felt weird and cool at the same time and incredibly intimate.  Also, being this close to Derek all he had to do is just lean a tiny bit forward and he could kiss Derek to his heart’s content.   And Derek seemed to like that quite a bit, moulding his mouth to Stiles’ mouth and kissing him deeply and thoroughly with a controlled passion that made Stiles glad they were lying down because he’d lost feeling in his lower limbs.

“I know.” Derek broke the third kiss they sank into.  “We have to be clever about this, Stiles.  We can’t just do something stupid because of hormones.  I don’t...”

Stiles pressed his fingers to Derek’s mouth and nodded.  “I get it.  Seriously.” He sat up before shimmying till he stood next to the couch.  “Come on, wave me goodbye.  Before you make me change my mind.”

Derek smirked and when he stood he brushed his full body length against Stiles’, reaching out and finding that impossible place on Stiles’ hip that made him want to giggle and/or swoon at the same time. 

“Come on, baker’s boy, let’s get you home.”

 

___

Derek’s phone rang when he got home after a two hour run.  Dragging his t-shirt off he mopped at his face before answering, propping himself up against the wall.

“What, Laura?”

“The kid,” she said without preamble.  “Do not screw this up for Hale’s Bakery, Derek.  I want him to work for us.  He’s special.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Derek scowled and tossed the balled up t-shirt onto the couch. 

“So tell me.”

“The kid is magic, Derek. His food, the stuff he makes. I can’t explain it.” She growled under her breath.  “I took some of his goods round to the Beacon Hills Retirement Home after we locked up tonight.”

“Laura, you’re just annoying me now. Tell me what you want to tell me. I need a shower and I need to get sleep.”

“His brownies had Mrs. Wilson dancing in the common room.  She’s not left her room in months.  Mr. Gibson asked one of the nurses out on a date and my god, one of the married couples, I forget their name, went off to make out in a janitor’s closet. This is not normal. These people are eighty, Derek.”

Derek closed his eyes. “And so you think this has something to do with Stiles’ baked goods?”

“Yes!” Her emphatic exclamation held no little amount of annoyance.  “Whatever he feels when he’s baking is _transmitted_ into the food he’s preparing and they then affect whoever eats them.”

“That’s nuts.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, Laura. Stiles is _just a talented baker_ nothing more.”

“So explain to me HOW when I ate his frangipane tart it felt like I was having sex?”

Derek blinked. “Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong?”

He disconnected the call as Laura started screaming at him.  No one needed to be subjected to that and basically, all he wanted to do is luxuriate in the burn of a good run and thoughts of Stiles kissing him.   He unplugged his landline before heading upstairs for a shower. 

Laura was high on something. There was no way Stiles’ baking could be responsible for the way the pensioners reacted.  It just...science.  There had to be scientific reasons for it.  Magic wasn’t real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great comments, you guys - reading them really kept me going. Been a tough few days but you know, after the penultimate episode of Teenwolf earlier this week and the copious amounts of sobbing what with Allison and all of it, I just needed more fic fluff. So I'll keep building this and see how it goes. Any / all comments welcome. There will also be recipes so come back, even if it is for that alone because omg brownies.


	3. 3

Stiles looked up from where he sat on the steps outside the backdoor to Hale’s Bakery when Derek pulled up in the Camaro.

“Stiles? Why are you here this early?” Derek asked him incredulously after parking the car.

“Couldn’t sleep. I started looking at recipes and thought I’d get here early to show them to you, thinking you’d be here already and of course you’re not, but now you are so if I can just show you...oh my god, you’re kissing me, okay, I can do that.”  Stiles sighed softly into Derek’s warmth and shivered in anticipation as Derek’s hand found the ticklish bit on his hip, pulling him closer.

“Good morning.” Derek said softly pulling away slightly to look down at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“Hey.” Stiles cursed his genetics because he flamed red under Derek’s hot gaze.  “So. Nice to see you, but can we go inside yet? I’ve been sitting out here for like ten minutes and its freezing.”

“You should dress warmer and get your car fixed,” Derek advised him seriously as his gaze snagged on the bicycle dropped behind the bins, before reluctantly moving away from him. “Come on.  I’ll get keys cut to the bakery for you today so you can let yourself in.”

“Woah. Okay. That’s...soon?”

Derek paused at the top of the step to look down at him. “What? You would prefer not to have a key?”

“No, no. I can totally do a key. I mean, have a key to Hale’s Bakery. Whatever. I am obviously cool with that, you know, if you and Laura felt it was okay for me to...”

“Stiles, come inside and make me coffee.  We’ve got a lot to do.”

And they did have a lot to do.  Stiles threw himself into preparing various batches of muffins and a new batch of ‘safe’ brownies. Keeping an eye on Derek he snuck a few extra ingredients aside and as Derek got involved in making choux pastry for the éclairs Stiles scrambled and prepped a recipe he’s become addicted to after discovering it on **_Brown Eyed Baker’s_** website.  The recipe is for marshmallow chocolate and peanut butter crunch brownie bars and it was decadent and gorgeously rich and complete comfort food. It was Stiles’ favourite.

By the time Laura turned up at seven to unlock the bakery Stiles was pulling out a batch of French loaves from the oven and shimmying around to Lady Gaga on the radio whilst Derek tried not to hurt himself laughing.

“You boys been having fun?” she asked surveying their trays of ready goods.  “It certainly looks like it.”

Derek rolled his eyes at her.  “We’re good here, thanks Laura.”

“If I wanted your opinion, Derek, I’d have asked you.”  She turns big eyes on Stiles.  “I’m very interested in hearing what you’ve been up to.  What _have_ you been up to, young Stilinski? What delicious treats have you got in store for me today?”

Stiles gave her a weak smile and watched as she sauntered past the trays.  “Which of these...?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“These and these, but also these.” He watched worriedly as she hummed over the trays before stopping in front of final tray, her eyebrow quirking in what is obviously a Hale family quirk, and prodded of the brownie bars, looking at him questioningly, encouraging him to speak.  “They’re good.  A new take on my brownie recipe.  Try them.”

Before she could, Derek took a step forward and picked up the brownie baking tray and crowded Laura with his body so that she started moving towards the shop. “I know, why don’t you walk _into the shop area_ and start setting up for the day, lovely sister mine?  I’ll bring you out a coffee and you can have one of these...these...? I don’t even know what they are? Stiles, what do you call these?”

“Uhm, peanut crunch marshmallow brownies?”

“One of those whilst we finish in the kitchen.  How does that sound to you?” 

Stiles wondered what exactly was going on between the two of them because they were having a serious conversation, the way only siblings or people married for a great many years can have with facial ticks and a lot of eyebrow movement.

He made Laura her coffee which, to his surprise, Derek intercepted and delivered to his sister’s elbow, patting her shoulder with a very fake and faintly scary smile and a hissed warning of:  _“Don’t come back there on pain of severe death”_ before stalking back into the kitchen with a look of distaste on his face.

“You okay?” Stiles asked as Derek brushed past him to get to his preparation area, his face like thunder. “Laura seems a bit tense today?”

“She’s got issues.” Derek placed his hands on the table in front of him and leaned forward, his head hanging low. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m adopted. How I have so little in common with her and with Cora.  But then I look so much like my dad that there’s no question.”   His lips twists into a wry smile but it holds an uncomfortable edge. “Sorry.  You shouldn’t even be exposed to my family dramas.”

“I’m okay,” he assured Derek.  “I’m a big guy. Besides, I’ve lived through five years of high school and being on the lacrosse team.  Dude, no one cuts a bitch like our old team captain. He was definitely emotionally unstable. And a diva to boot.”

Derek snorts. “You have a way with words, Stiles. If baking doesn’t work out for you, you should become a writer.”

“Now there’s a thought.” Stiles turned and busied himself making coffee when inspiration struck.  “Dude.  I have an idea.”

He thrust Derek’s mug at him and jumped onto Derek’s table with his own mug nudging him a little with his knee. “Now, before you even think about saying no, just think about this.” Stiles held up his hand. “What about starting a blog for Hale’s Bakery?  You guys can give news updates and share recipes.  What do you think?”

“We already have a website.”

Stiles pursed his lips and definitely couldn’t ignore the way Derek’s eyes focussed on the tiny movement before flicking back up to meet his yes.

“Yeah, it’s a business website.  The blog will be for _fun_.  It will mean you will have to keep up to date with content and news and things, but think about it.  It’ll be great exposure and make you guys an even bigger part of the community.”

“I don’t like the sound of it. I do the baking. And occasionally I help out front when I’m needed.”

“But don’t you see, Derek? The blog can be your thing? The kitchen’s thing? You guys can show the process of making the stuff you sell out front.”

“Really?” Derek’s eyebrow jolted higher. “People care about stuff like that?”

“Dude, of course they do! It will be like a behind the scenes making of, like they have on DVDs.”

“Stiles.” Derek placed his mug to the side and moved so that he stood between Stiles’ legs.  “You really do talk a lot.”

“I have a lot of ideas, so yeah.”  Stiles smirks at him. “And I usually know what I’m talking about. You’ll learn that about me.

“You talk so much that it distracts me.  I don’t like being distracted.”

“What do I distract you from?”

“Thoughts of kissing you. Of touching you.”

“Oh. My. God.” Stiles drew a ragged breath and let his eyelids flutter shut as Derek nuzzled his neck. “That. Uhm.”

“And, as much as I’d like to spend the next hour making out, we need to look at the papers and recipes you brought along.”

Stiles sighed happily and opened his mouth for Derek’s kiss that did crazy insane things to his brain and other parts of his body. 

“Here?” Stiles cleared his throat as Derek reluctantly lifted his head when they both heard the doorbell to the shop chime.  “I mean, are we talking about them here?”

“Yes. I can’t have you at the house again, not after yesterday.”

Stiles felt his breath whoosh out of him at Derek’s words and he scowled at him.  “What?” he bit out, his voice louder than he thought it would be.

Derek was in the process of shifting away from Stiles but he looked back down at him with a frown.

“What part about being distracted by you didn’t you understand?” His thumb traced the full curve of Stiles’ mouth, his hazel eyes very intense on the younger man’s face. “I’m very ridiculously over the top attracted to you Stiles.  In a way I can’t remember feeling for a very long time.  I don’t want to push you into something you may regret later on. I want this,” he gestured between them, indicating the space, taking in their tense bodies, the shop but mostly meaning _them._ “To work and not just be a quick fuck in the back storage room, because that’s not how I do things.”

Stiles, his eyes huge, nodded.

“Okay. Thanks for clearing that up. I thought I fucked up and that you were pissed at me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re the worst.”

And as Derek went in for another kiss, Laura wandered into the kitchen  with a dazed expression on her face; brownie in one hand and her mug of coffee in the other.

“Stiles?”

“Holy shi...” Stiles is off the table and away from Derek in a second, his back against one of the large fridges, his hand hold out in warning towards Laura. “Look, I’m sorry I kissed him, Laura. Please don’t fire me because I need this job, but I mean, I have eyes and have you _seen your brother_...wait, why are you? Oh god, Derek, help, she’s on me.”

 

___

Derek growled in frustration as Laura snuggled up to Stiles, one arm wrapped tightly against his neck, the other around his waist.  She’s got her head tucked right under his chin and she’s making these weird contented noises, something that Derek’s never heard her make in the past and it is just WEIRD.

Stiles, his eyes wide, stared at him in mute plea, his hands held up and away from his body and from Laura.

“A little help?” he pleads, panic deepening his voice.

“Laura!”

“Go away, Derek. Stiles is my favourite now.”

There’s something in Laura’s voice that makes Derek unreasonably uncomfortable. It sounds _possessive_ and the way she’s pressing herself up against Stiles isn’t exactly wanton but it’s something and the not knowing of what that something is makes him feel helpless and annoyed.

“Come on, this isn’t good.” Derek wrapped his arm around Laura and pulled.  Her grip on Stiles only tightened and he moved with her as Derek hefted. “Fuck, Laura – what are you doing?”

“I just need a cuddle. And Stiles is right here and he smells so good and god, Derek, I’m not going to ask him on a date, okay? Just let me hug him a little.”

Derek caught Stiles’ wide gaze over her head and was surprised to see Stiles looking less panicked and more like he’s trying not to laugh out loud.  Stiles wrapped his arm tentatively around Laura and gave her back an awkward pat. 

“There. There.” His voice sounded strangled.  “Better?”

In answer she sighed and just nestled closer.  The doorbell went and she made no effort to disentangle herself from Stiles, leaving Derek to go and serve the early morning customer.  He stalked off into the shop and scowled heavily at the woman with her toddler in tow.  The woman smiled blissfully at him and asked for the brownies she had yesterday but also could she try the new style brownies?  She bought a baguette too and kept on smiling at Derek and her general goodwill towards him made him unwind a little and he felt his frown lessen slightly.  By the time she left the front of the shop held more customers and he bravely helped them as there was no sign of Laura coming out of the back any time soon.  Derek thought he handled the customers really well and only growled once at a businessman asking about meeting the baker of the gorgeous brownies.

A bunch of high school girls from the private acadmy came in and ogled him openly and made him bend and stretch for various things for a full five minutes and Derek considered throwing them out but they bought a stack of his croissants and a bag of brownies before leaving.  He watched them through the window as they passed out the brownies amongst one another. The one girl, a pretty brunette with deep dimples, closed her eyes in exaggerated ecstasy and leaned into her friend with a goofy grin on her face.  The way her friend looked down at her, her eyes half-lidded and knowing, catching on the girl’s lips, before smiling, made Derek shift uncertainly.

Laura’s words, about Stiles’ baking, came back to him.  There was no way the kid was magic.  He was a gifted baker.  That was it. But then, as he turned away from the counter to head into the back he saw the two girls kissing softly, hesitantly and it gave him pause. 

What if Stiles was magic?

In the kitchen Laura’d moved away from Stiles and they were talking quietly and intently. Stiles had his backpack open and he had some recipes spread out before him. 

“I’d like to try these fruit tarts.  I found the recipe in an secondhand book I bought at the Strand in New York? It dates back from the seventies and it just sounds fantastic.  I also have ideas for these filo pastries with layers of custard and…” He looks up and smiles at Derek and for a second Derek’s struck by how ridiculously cute Stiles is. How kissable and how the low kick in his stomach at the sight of the younger man is not something he’s experienced in a long time and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.

“Derek, get in here. Stiles has some great ideas.” Laura looked up at him and her smile is so open and friendly and unexpectedly real, Derek was taken aback. He could not remember the last time Laura’s smile had not been full of sharp edges and her voice full of barbs.

“Oh yeah?” Derek huffed a breath of annoyance when the doorbell went again.  “We can talk about this later. Laura, go serve out front.  We’ve got dough to mix for tonight.”

She nodded, reaching up to kiss his jaw, much to his surprise.  He blinked at her and watched as she walked into the kitchen, her fingers trailing across the counter a small secret smile on her lips.

“What did you do to my sister?” Derek asked Stiles, a wary look on his face.  “She’s acting weird.”

“Dude, I seriously don’t know what her malfunction is.  Or was.” He grinned.  “Maybe she likes me?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Casanova, think again. Laura doesn’t like guys.”

“Oh?” his voice rose a little in surprise.  “So, you like guys and Laura likes girls? Interesting.”

“I’m bi, Stiles.”

Stiles blinked in surprise. “So am I.”

Derek ‘s frown deepened. “Why do you sound surprised by that?”

“I just…I’ve been in love with this girl all of my high school life, basically. Then I started going to college and kissed a boy at a rave and well, you know, it was weird and I thought I was a freak but then I realised that you know, I’m lucky because I can wholeheartedly appreciate both sexes.”

“Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?” Derek realised that he should have asked Stiles this before he kissed him yesterday.

“What? No. God, I wouldn’t make out with you if I had someone in my life.  No, come on. That’s not right.” Stiles drew himself to his full height. “Come on, baker man, tell me what we’re doing so we can get talking about these fruit tarts and the chilli chocolate tort recipe I found that I think you’d love.”

Derek nodded, turned the music up and handed Stiles the recipe cards for the speciality breads they needed for the store tomorrow. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times ahoy!

___

Stiles blearily turned the alarm clock off and swung out of bed, hissing as his feet hit the cold floor. It was supposed to be spring but it still felt like winter.  Shivering he jumped in the shower before dressing warmly in jeans and several layers. He gave up making sense of his hair, raking product through it, making it stand more upright. He tilted his jaw, noticing the fading mark Derek’s teeth left at the junction of his neck and shoulder and grinned, running a finger over it. 

Derek seemed to enjoy their make-out sessions.  He liked it a little rough but handled Stiles with care, checking that he was going being pressed up against the kitchen counter, the door or any surface really and well, fuck, with Derek doing the pressing, Stiles had no issues at all. He liked that Derek seemed a bit freaked out around him, watching him with wary eyes, like he couldn’t quite believe his attraction to Stiles. And Stiles was not vain.  He knew he was cute in a manboy kind of way that made boy-bands so popular but Derek was volcano god hot and could walk into Jungle and have the hotties lined up, begging to be fucked by him, and yet, he seems fascinated by Stiles. 

With the Jeep fixed, and with the key to the bakery, Stiles got there ahead of Derek most mornings. He turned on the ovens, brewed a large pot of coffee, set up the recipes and checked to see what sold really well the previous day.

He had a good routine going and liked the quiet half an hour in the kitchen before Derek got there, usually.  Stiles prepped his work station and laid out the makings of the chocolate tort that had proven hugely popular.  He hummed as he worked, smiling to himself, wondering what Derek would say about the strawberry mille-feuille he proposed the night before and then went home and made.   For someone who made incredible pastries and breads, Derek didn’t seem to enjoy eating the stuff. It blew Stiles’ mind because pastries and baked goods just was the best.  Apart from kissing Derek Hale, that is.  That was totally the best thing, but then, you couldn’t really shape that into a cake, could you?

By the time the tort was in the oven, Derek pulled open the back door, bringing in a gust of cold air and the smell of rain and thunder.  Without taking the time to pull of his jacket he walked into the kitchen, found Stiles at the wash-up and pulled him into a long slow kiss.

Stiles wound his arms around Derek’s neck and kissed him, letting the older man lick his lips apart and then slowly fuck his mouth with his tongue.  He groaned wantonly and pressed himself against Derek, making him very aware of his growing need until Derek broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Stiles’ and breathing raggedly.

“I crave you today,” Derek said.  “If we didn’t have the Bennett wedding to bake for today, I’d drag you home and do my utmost to make you want me as much as I want you.”

Stiles grinned against his mouth, rubbing his hips against Derek’s.  “Good morning to you too.  Would you like some coffee?”

“You smell so good,” Derek answered him without answering.  He pressed his cold fingers to Stiles mouth.  “Today is going to be hell.”

“Definitely you need coffee,” Stiles said pulling away, but not after playfully nipping Derek’s fingers, making him groan.  “Come on, sit down and have coffee and I’ll make you the best omelette you’ve ever had in your life.”

“We don’t have time, Stiles.”

“There is always time for breakfast, Derek. Shut up, sit down, take your coat off. We’re going to here for a long time today.”

Derek grumbled something about being bossed around in his own kitchen but he does as Stiles instructed him, shoving his jacket and scarf into his locker.  He watched Stiles move around, cracking eggs, whipping them with some milk, adding seasoning.

“Yes or no to bacon?”

“Always yes to bacon.”

Stiles sent him a cute grin and shimmied around to Fall Out Boy’s Phoenix, throwing his head back to howl out some lyrics, before folding the cheesy omelette over so that it can cook evenly.  He took out two plates, poured them each some orange juice and set up a small area at his preparation area so that they can eat there.

“You have a good sleep?” he asked Derek as he slid his plate across to him.  “My dad came home late last night.  Half the department’s down with some kind of flu so people are doing longer shifts than usual.”

“I eventually fell asleep.” Derek’s gaze came to rest on his mouth for a second before he looked down at his food.  “Laura keeps ringing to talk to me about how well the bakery’s doing.”

“I’m glad, man. The whole place is great. I love it.  Your triple seed loaf is the best I’ve tasted. Even my dad who doesn’t like anything remotely healthy can’t get enough of it.” Stiles waved his empty fork at him.  “And his office would crawl over broken glass to get your donuts and you know it.”

“And all the yummy mummies who come in here to buy your fruit tarts for their afternoon tea would love to take you home and do unimaginable things to you.”  Derek’s voice holds a low growl and it made Stiles laugh lightly.

“Laura should tell them that I couldn’t be with anyone because food is my one true love.”

Derek quirks a brow. “Is it true?”

Stiles wished he could control the blush that spreads across his cheeks. “I’m not so sure anymore.” He ducks his head and neatly cuts a piece of omelette.  “So, what is Laura thinking of doing with the bakery? When I interviewed she mentioned something about opening a restaurant?”

“Yeah. She’s been itching to use her business degree to do more.  My parents are fully supportive too.”

“You?” Stiles raised his eyebrows and watched Derek’s expression shift to thoughtful to carefully neutral.

“I just wanna bake. It’s what I’m good at.”

“It’s one of the things you’re good at,” Stiles pointed out.  “You’re good at other stuff too.”

“Like what?”

Stiles blinked at him as he felt himself flushing red.  “Driving? You’re good at driving.  And, you know. Being angry at your sister. Also: kissing. And driving me crazy by looking at me with sex-eyes.”  Then he shrugged and laughed because basically he had no filter between his brain and mouth. “And looking hot.”

“Please, continue to objectify me,” Derek huffed but a tiny corner of his full lips curved into a smile.   “Because that’s not an issue at all.”

“Oh yeah, such a big issue.” But Stiles’ grin was wide even if was mortified being this blatant.  “So, what did you study at college?  Business degree?”

“No, actually. I hate the thought of doing a business degree.  I mean, it’s good for some and I know I could do it if I bothered and applied myself, like Laura did, but no.  I got a history degree and minored in philosophy.”

“And so you took all your years of study and came to work in a bakery?”

Derek rolled his eyes that told Stiles he was nearing his patience but you know, Stiles had to figure out what made Derek tick.

“I worked in the bakery all my life, Stiles.  I learned how to bake before I could ride a bike. It’s who I am.  When I went to college I wanted to do something completely different, something that interested me, that mattered to me. It gave me perspective.” He gave Stiles a pointed look.  “And, just so you know, I’m not just a baker.  I do research for an academic paper in my spare time. It pays well and the rest of the time this is what I do.” He gestured to the kitchen.  “I bake, I feed the town of Beacon Hills. It makes me happy.”

Stiles was grinning hugely now.

“The blog, we should totally do it. Seriously.”

“Why are you so excited about this?”

“Because Derek, you guys are interesting.  What you do here is interesting.”  Stiles gestured. “You need to let your community know about it.”

“Talk to Laura. See what she says. My parents will probably not be keen. They’re pretty set in their ways.”

Stiles grinned in triumph. “You are so getting a food blog.”

 

___

Derek’s life was fucked up. It’s been three weeks since Stiles of the crazy hair and lean hands joined him in the kitchen and his life’s taken a decided turn for the surreal.  They make out, a lot, and that part Derek has no issues with, but he’s hesitant to take it further.  He’s not good with intimacy.  He’s had two serious relationships in the past and neither of them ended well and more than anything, he’s terrified he was going to fuck things up with Stiles.

He’s set in his ways and he’s happy with his quiet life with his books and his music and experimenting with dishes in his kitchen.  Having Stiles, vibrant, dancing, laughing, talking, Stiles be there as a small part of his life is distracting and strange but not wholly unpleasant. The kid is engaging and funny and smart and drips with sarcasm.  He’s still mortally afraid of Laura but once Stiles realised Laura only wanted him for his tarts, he settled down around her, watching her less like prey would watch a predator and started giving her lip that she seemed to appreciate.

And Derek didn’t know what to think about that.  He didn’t know what to make of Laura’s interest in Stiles.  He knew she liked him.  She liked being around him, talking to him and touching him.  But as much as she liked him, she loved his food. Every day she’d open the bakery but only after she sampled the goods Stiles had baked for the day. Her reactions varied from declaring herself sexually fulfilled to pining hopelessly to being flirty and giggly and it was just plain downright weird and it seemed to rub off on the other staff too.  They talked about Stiles in hushed whispers and some of them even started coming in early to hang out in the kitchen to watch him work (or was that dance because that was still something Derek couldn’t quite wrap his mind around seeing).

And their customers seemed to love whatever Stiles produced.  He also noticed that more kids and teens came into the store too. And young couples, obviously in love. It was as if they’ve reached a brand new demographic by having Stiles in the bakery and it made him wonder what would happen once Spring break was over and Stiles had to go back to culinary school.

The reason why Derek’s life was fucked up was that his parents loved the idea of a food blog attached to their main website.  They’ve contracted one of Stiles’ friends called Danny to set one up and host it or whatever it’s called. And basically it’s been hell working on it and Derek hated it with all his soul because he hated the idea of letting anyone else in the kitchen.  He still, as much as he fancied Stiles and wanted to push him up against things and savagely kiss him, startled occasionally when he realised Stiles was actually there, quietly talking to himself as he read through a recipe, his clever fingers mixing and kneading.

So, when Danny turned up one morning shortly after they opened the kitchen to start on the day’s fresh baking and set up cameras, Derek had freaked out. He cut a bitch. Threw a strop and it had nothing to do with how Stiles and Danny grinned and joked with one another and shared secret amused looks.  No. It had nothing to do with what he thought he could sense simmering between them; this _intimacy_ that just made Derek’s skin crawl and he wanted to take all of Danny’s cameras and break them apart into itty bitty pieces and then stomp on them.  Because he could because he didn’t want them there.

But Stiles. Fucking Stiles caught him outside and calmed him down by talking to him, holding onto his wrists until his heart rate slowed and his hands uncurled, finding their way to Stiles’ hips and just resting there, heavily and possibly reluctantly.

“I don’t like people in my kitchen,” Derek ground out, staring at the Camaro behind Stiles. “They disturb my calm.”

“You let me in your kitchen,” Stiles pointed out calmly and slowly.  “Why is it different having Danny here now? He’s not going to be obtrusive and you know your parents are behind the blog.”

“I know. It doesn’t mean I like it. What is it with Danny anyway?” Derek grimaced. “Is he your ex or something?”

A look of surprise crossed Stiles’ face and Derek expected him to laugh, to flail, to joke but not to lean in and kiss him lightly, on the corner of his mouth.

“No. Danny is just Danny. Everyone likes him. I mean, how can you not? He’s the easiest person to be around.  I’ve known him all my life and he’s a good friend.  And yes, possibly we may have kissed a few times in high school but that was more Danny doing me a favour, helping me figure things out.”

“Did you date?”

“No.” Stiles grinned. “He’s not wild enough for me. Or taciturn. Or covered in flour.”

“I hate you, Stiles.”

“I know. I hate you too, Derek. Let’s go inside and bake.”

Derek hesitated for a second only, before nodding.  “Just tell him not to get in my way.”

___

Turns out Danny was a really good photographer.  Stiles wrote up the first few blog posts and it was both funny and charming. They detailed five recipes and Derek got cajoled into helping out.  The “about us” page for the Baking Hales now held a picture of Derek looking only a little like a serial killer in his whites standing behind his work station, arms crossed, lips slightly compressed, brows heavy but ultimately sizzling hot. Laura’s picture on the other hand showed her every inch the business woman in a beautiful Chanel suit and high heels, her hair immaculate and her eyes huge in her beautiful face. The other staff went all out for their profile photos and from the hits on the blog once it was launched, there was a definite interest in seeing how things were done behind the scenes. People left comments on the recipes, trying them out.  People started following their twitter feed and instagramming pictures of their own baked goods.

Stiles though. It irked Derek that Stiles didn’t have a profile photo.  But then Stiles pointed out he was only temporary and kitchen help rather than actual staff and Derek thought it was the biggest bunch of crap he’d ever heard. Laura stopped pressuring him about it when he made her carrot and walnut bread that had her take the day off to go and spend it with her dvd collection and duvet.

The blog was a revelation. More orders started coming in too, for Easter and birthday parties and Derek and Stiles had to extend the hours they got into work and stayed on to get it all done.  Derek didn’t mind because he got to spend more time with Stiles which can’t ever be a bad thing but he did mind because Stiles started looking wrecked.

“Sit down,” he growled at the younger man as they bundled into the kitchen just after midnight. “I’m feeding you before you pass out on me.”

“What?” Stiles sat down without much prodding and rubbed his face. “We have a weird relationship, Derek.”

Derek smirks. “You realise this now?”

“What are you making me?”

“Steak. Rare.”

“How rare?”

“Not as rare as I like it but you need protein, Stiles. You look like you’re going to fall over. What have you been doing?”

“Working for you and your sister.  You’re slave drivers.” He laughs when Derek sends him a narrow glare but then he shrugs lightly and leans onto the table a little, dropping his chin onto his arms. “I don’t know. I’m just feeling really flat and weird, like my energy isn’t renewing.”

Derek didn’t like how Stiles sounded either.  He sounded muted and dull.

“There’s something else going on too, right? Are you worried about school?”

“No. Yes.” Stiles grimaced. “A little bit. Maybe.” He shrugged. “I’m supposed to have gone to Europe with my friend Scott.  We were spending time in Tuscany with one of the chefs running a course there but my dad got shot and so there’d been no money to cover the fees.”

“Was this course crucial to what you’re doing at culinary school at the moment?”

“No, but it would have shown willing.  It would have shown that we were thinking outside the box, not joining all the other kids at the beach getting drunk and laid.  It showed that we were dedicated and wanted to be serious about this. Besides, he only chose the two of us out of a class of thirty.”

“And no funds were offered for you to do this? No bursary?”

“Flights. Our flights were covered by the school but we still had to pay for the course ourselves.”

Derek found himself twisting the kitchen towel in his hands but tossed it onto the table. “And is that why you applied for the job here?”

“No. My dad told me to get a spring job because he knew I’d be spending the time messing around on the Xbox otherwise.” He grinned at Derek’s sour expression.  “Dude, come on. You guys having a position open is the best thing that’s happened to me this break, okay? Seriously.”

“ _The_ best thing?”

Stiles flamed red and pointed a finger. “Well, possibly you insisting on kissing me every five minutes is _the best thing_ but I can’t be sure.”

“What would be better?”

Stiles’ eyes widened for a second at Derek’s question and the scent of chocolate permeated the kitchen but it was so subtle Derek put it off to how the kitchen smells most of the time anyway.  The way Stiles stilled though, eyes huge, lips a little bit apart, makes his heart thunder and his mind go to filthy sexy places and god, he was sure he could smell Stiles’ lust in the air.

“Stiles?” Derek left the meat on the counter and walked the few paces until he stood in front of Stiles. He braced himself against the table between them and leaned forward, nuzzling the long line of his neck. “Talk to me.”

“What would be better than kissing?”  Stiles’ voice was a tiny bit hoarse, a lot ragged, like his breathing’s just hitched. “Maybe more than kissing? Fucking maybe?”

“You want that?” Derek felt he should get an award for the restraint he was showing, for not pulling the leaner boy into his arms, trapping him against him. “I want to be clear on what you want, Stiles.”

His hair brushed against Derek’s face as he leaned back a little, giving Derek more access to his neck, his upturned face.

“I’d very much like for you to fuck me, Derek.”

Derek tilted his head so that he could lick the erratic vein beating in Stiles neck. He let his teeth graze the soft skin there before he pulled Stiles up and over the table somehow so that he was right between Stiles’ legs and god, it was perfect.  The way they fit together broke him.

“You must know…” Derek rumbled, dropping a large hand to the zip of Stiles’ jeans. “That this is not something that is ever done in my kitchen.”

Stiles nodded mutely.

“You must know that I’ve been holding back taking this further.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m sure I can cope,” Stiles muttered, another flush creeping along his cheeks. “This is not my first rodeo.”

Derek smirked at that, his hand dipping between them as he palmed Stiles through the fabric of his jeans.

“Well, that’s not quite what I meant but good to know.”  Derek pulled him up so that he stood  close against him.  He scraped his nails lightly around Stiles’ waist as he pulled his jeans and boxers down and then followed them down until he took position in front of Stiles on his knees.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked in shock.  “This is not…”

“I want to. Let me do this?”

___

Being touched by Derek is one thing, a pretty spectacular thing that ranks up there with lazy Sundays, squirming puppies and eating organic chocolates but getting blown by Derek is not just pretty spectacular it is heaven and if he died when he came well, he’d be going with a smile. 

He clutched the table behind him and groaned because good god, Derek’s mouth was hot and wet and sinful and the way he just slowly sucked down Stiles’ length leached all thought from his brain.

Swallowing with difficulty he looked down his body at Derek’s dark head bent between his legs and thought that if three weeks worth of savage kissing between baking and planning new recipes got him this, he wondered what Derek would do to him if he cooked him a four course meal.

Derek had his hands locked on Stiles’ hips, pressing him against the table, holding him immobile. Stiles tried squirming against his firm grip but was held firmly in place as Derek licked long leisurely licks along his cock swirling his tongue delicately along the slit before sucking it down again.

“Oh. My. God.” Stiles arched backwards, unable to control the gasps coming from his mouth. “Derek, your mouth, sweet Jesus.”

He could feel the smug coming off Derek in waves and reached blindly, his hands tangling in Derek’s hair, just tugging at it, working his way down until they’ve reached the back of Derek’s neck.  Derek hummed questioningly against him, laving his tongue luxuriously around him, sucking insistently, teeth grazing lightly, and it took all of Stiles’ sanity not to just buck into his mouth mindlessly.

“Come on,” he muttered, leaning down and if that made him slip out of Derek’s mouth that was okay too because he had plans and ideas about doing stuff to Derek too. Derek rose to his feet and crowded him, letting him take off both their shirts whilst slowly fucking Stiles’ mouth with his tongue. 

Stiles really didn’t think so much as react to the way Derek made him feel.  He hustled himself out of jeans and impatiently tugged at Derek’s until they were both naked.  Stiles gave Derek a heavy look before wrapping his hand around Derek. He didn’t break eye contact and instead watched as Derek’s eyes got even darker, how his breath became less measured, how his pulse beat erratically, how his lips fell open thoughtlessly and he revelled in the fact that he was doing this to the older man.

Stiles slowly sank to his knees in front of Derek, his wrist slowly pumping up and down his shaft. Making sure Derek was looking at him, Stiles wrapped his mouth around Derek and slowly, so slowly, he slid his mouth over his length, swallowing him down.

Derek let out a sigh, like he was coming home and lightly thrust his hips in an upward arc, just a small unconscious thing and Stiles couldn’t help the groan that escaped him because that little movement told him exactly how much he was in charge right now and it was such a turn on.  He gave himself a little stroke and hummed at the feel of his own cock in his hand.

Stiles worked his tongue around Derek’s cock, licking and sucking until his cheeks hollowed and as Derek clutched wordlessly at the table behind him, doing his utmost to keep standing, Stiles used his free hand to part his cheeks, shooting Derek a questioning look, very much aware the impact the sight of his plush lips around his cock and unspoken question would have on Derek.

“Oh god,” Derek muttered, his eyes heavy with want.  “Just, no…not yet.  Soon. At my place. I have a fantastic bed and I want to do so much to you.  But not here.”

Stiles pulled back, taking a long time to do so, so that when Derek’s cock popped from his mouth it came out with a soft “mwap” noise and it sounded filthy and looked debauched.

“So I get to go to your house again?” he asked standing up and immediately curling a large hand between them, getting their cocks together in a comfortable grip. “Will I be less or more distracting then?”

Derek shuddered, pulling him closer by the shoulder.

“Fuck, Stiles, how can you even talk…holy Jesus where did you learn…”  He dropped his forehead onto Stiles’ shoulder.  “I need you to…”

“What?” Stiles nudged him lightly.  “What do you need?”

“I need you in my bed so I can fuck you into my mattress.  This? What we’re doing right now? This is foreplay.”  Derek raised his head and caught Stiles’ mouth in a deep kiss before he could talk more. 

Stiles moaned into his mouth, dragging his palm up and down over both of them, liking how they fit and matched, thrust for thrust.  He’s had partners and a boyfriend in the past, but this, this thing with Derek was something different altogether and he never wanted it to end.

When Derek came after what felt like a century of them grinding and thrusting together, their mouths fucking, their breath mingling, their eyes not looking away, he gave a startled moan and bit down on Stiles’ shoulder making the younger man gasp in shock, tipping him over the edge too.

Stiles cradled Derek against him, his hand riding them both through the convulsions until the pleasure almost became pain before pulling away a little. 

“Hey,” he said. “There you are.”

Derek’s smile when it came was a fucking vision because it was a little shy and maybe a little embarrassed but it was all Derek.

“So this isn’t exactly me feeding you steak.”

Stiles grinned and dropped a wet open mouthed kiss on his lips.  “Well, I got fed something and I am not complaining.”

At Derek’s gasp Stiles let out a laugh and backed away.  “We made a mess.  Oops.”

“You’re ridiculous. Watch out, oh my god!”

Derek reached for Stiles as he took a step back and stumbled over Derek’s jeans, his feet getting tangled in the legs. Before he could tip right over Derek grabbed him by the arm and levered him upright against him.

“Jesus, Stiles, what were you doing?”

Stiles stared at him with wide eyes for a second, realising how close he came to braining himself against the sharp edged table.  He drew in a deep breath and let it whoosh out and from somewhere he found the guts to say it.

“Falling for you?”

Surprise registered on Derek’s face and he huffed out a laugh, pulling him in for another kiss.

“Not the way I would have chosen to show it but you know, I’m sure we can work with it.  Get dressed, you’re distracting enough in that god-awful rock t-shirt you love so much.  I have to eat after what you just put me through.  And! We’ve got two dozen red velvet cupcakes to make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more kissing!  
> There is more baking!  
> There is more creative swearing!  
> There's also sexy times.

**Author's Note:**

> Some swearing.  
> Some kissing.  
> Some obvious checking out.  
> Some emotions. 
> 
> I'd appreciate any / all feedback. And I'm up over at http://londonpack.tumblr.com/


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